


Irresistible Thoughts

by Laurasauras



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Sburb Session, Anal Sex, Brother/Brother Incest, M/M, Non-Consensual Somnophilia, Oral Sex, Somnophilia, Stridercest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-09
Updated: 2019-07-02
Packaged: 2019-10-07 04:54:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17359367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laurasauras/pseuds/Laurasauras
Summary: Dirk's Bro comes home from Hollywood and falls asleep almost immediately. READ THE TAGS.





	1. Chapter 1

You haven't seen your bro in eight months because he's been busy shooting his latest movie. You haven't spoken to him in three weeks because he's supposed to call you on Sundays when he's free, but he's forgotten the last few times. You haven't spoken to any other people in that time either, unless cashiers and delivery people count. And really, you order most shit online and get by with just nodding as far as communication with strangers goes.

So maybe you are a bit enthused when he walks in the door. You're not waiting at the door for him (though you are listening for it) and you don't run up to him (though you do meet him there) and you think you should be somewhat congratulated for that. You offer a fist for him to bump and you're overwhelmingly grateful that your face is hidden in his shoulder when he pulls you in for a hug instead because he feels like home and you're not even close to as chill as you want him to think you are.

He'll never respect you as an adult if you cling to him like a little kid, so you count out three seconds carefully. And then you let yourself have another two seconds hugging him because he hasn't let go yet either. And _then_ you step back.

'How was the flight?' you ask.

'Plane food is ass,' Bro says, picking up his suitcase and chucking it inside the apartment a bit more so he can close the door. He looks at you again and grins. 'Did you get taller again?' he says.

'I think I've finished growing by now,' you say. 'Though you have been away forever, so it's possible.'

Bro claps his hand to his chest as if wounded and staggers back like a dork before grinning at you again. Your heart feels swollen in your chest, like an actual physical thing, which is ridiculous. Your bro has this stupid habit of making your body disobey basic rationality.

'So, what's on the agenda tonight?' you ask as you both head into the apartment properly, inwardly cursing yourself for such a bland question. That's two for two.

He gives you a tiny self-deprecating smile. You love that you get to see the full range of his expressions, even if he hasn't taken his signature aviators off yet. Watching his interviews, you'd think he doesn't have any except neutral.

'Dirk, I love you but I'm about 30 seconds from passing out. Unless you have food. Then I'm dinner plus 30 seconds from passing out.'

You make sure your disappointment doesn't show on your face.

'I have food,' you say.

'You look after me,' Bro says, smiling gratefully. He flops onto the couch and you see his eyes fall shut behind his shades. Yeah, you're gonna get him food and bring it to him and sit next to him, hoping he says literally anything to you. God you're pathetic.

You touch Bro’s shoulder to wake him up when you have the instant ramen you made for him, but he doesn't even stir. You push him on the head and he still doesn't wake up. You run your fingers through his soft hair, dragging your nails against his scalp.

Why isn't he waking up? How fucking tired is he? You were only gone for like 5 minutes making this!

You're really just stroking your bro's hair now, aren't you? You twist your fingers around a portion and pull harshly, to justify what you're doing.

He groans and wakes up.

'Food,' you say, holding it out to him.

'Mmm,' he says. 'Yeah. Fuck I'm tired, Dirk. It's … mmm.'

You let go of his hair, way too late. He doesn't notice.

You blame … everything, absolutely everything, for the way your mind immediately starts to wonder what else you could get away with while he's in this state. Everything from your own tired state (you might have been too nervous to sleep last night, it's been eight fucking months), to the pictures published in Cosmopolitan of him earlier in the year, to just general stupidity.

You really shouldn't have thought about those pictures. You think about them way too often. You shouldn't. Think about them. Especially not while Bro is right there. Oh look, you're thinking about them. It's fine. It's not like you haven't seen your bro practically naked in real life. Oh look, now you're thinking about that instead. Such a fucking improvement.

He puts aside his empty bowl on the coffee table and pats the couch cushion next to him. Huh, you just stood next to the couch and watched him eat his noodles while you thought about him naked, that sure was a weird thing to do, even by your standards. You sit next to him and he scruffs your hair for a moment before relaxing back into the same position as before and closing his eyes.

You take his shades off, fold them up and put them on the coffee table.

'Thanks,' he mumbles. 'I'm not sleeping, chuck a movie on or something. I'll go to bed in a minute.'

He's clearly lying, but you pick up the remote and fiddle with it for half a minute while you try and control your damn thoughts. You've always struggled with getting stuck on one particular train of thought with no stations or alternate tracks to divert you. This particular train is one you have a love/hate relationship with, because on the one hand you don't want to be thinking of your bro that way and on the other … whenever you've given into it, you've been treated to the best god damn orgasms of your life and hey, that's hard to argue with. Especially when the you that's on board for more orgasms points out that no one needs to know that you masturbate at all, let alone what you think of when you do.

When you look back at him, Bro’s asleep again. You can tell. You lean on him slightly, hoping your weight is uncomfortable enough to wake him up and make him be present with you. It isn't.

He's slouched in the corner of the couch, which makes it hard to lean on him the amount that you've decided is proper. Your stupid brain tells you that you should err on the side of more. After all, the dickhead should be awake. It's his own fault.

This might as well be a cuddle. You don't really do this with anyone, but the warmth from his body is nice. You rest your head gently on his shoulder and slowly relax into it. Okay, maybe spite isn't your primary motivator here. Whatever. He should be thrilled to get a cuddle off his bro who he hasn't even bothered to keep in proper contact with. Jane's dad calls her at least every second day, sometimes more. Hell, her poppop is in a family group chat with her and checks in more frequently than your bro. Not that you don't understand. He's busy. Famous. (Jane’s poppop is busy and famous too.)

He's not wearing a suit like he so often is when he knows he's going to be seen in public. Instead you’re pressed against a plain button-up shirt that’s soft against your cheek and probably very expensive jeans. You trace a crease from one side of his chest to the other, wondering who else gets to see him like this. You can't remember anyone staying over when he still lived here. He's never talked about partners to you at all.

There's actually a lot of creases in this shirt. Maybe he didn't iron it. Or maybe it got creased on the plane. This one goes right across his nipple, you can feel how it gives a little easier than the rest of his chest. When you trace it again, it's still soft but you can feel the bump of it a bit more.

You take your hand away and watch his face carefully. You did that. You made his body react to you. He's still very asleep. You swallow nervously before putting your palm back on his belly, watching his eyelids the whole time. Nothing.

Sometimes you get thoughts that start with _I wonder what would happen if I …_ and they're very hard to resist. Once you wondered what would happen if you angled your bunsen burner slightly differently and what happened was that the chem teacher's very low quality blazer caught fire. And you liked her fine. You probably could have figured out what would happen if you had resisted that thought, you were 16 god damn years old and plenty clever enough, but for some reason your brain insists on finding out in a very practical way.

You wonder what would happen if you put your hand exactly where it is now, but under Bro's shirt.

What will happen is that you'll be touching his skin and he may or may not wake up but either way that's a weird thing to do. Not as bad as setting someone on fire though. Your fingers hover at the hem of his shirt for a moment. You think it would be less alarming if you ease into the contact, rather than just suddenly putting your hand on the skin just under his sternum.

You let your fingers touch him just below the hem. You feel more fabric and realise that's the waistband of his underwear. You aren't going to dwell on that too long. You just move your hand slowly and gently up his stomach until you're on his chest.

His skin is so warm and soft. Even the hair that runs below his belly button down towards where you're not allowed to follow is soft. You can feel his pulse under your fingertips. It's somehow intoxicating, more intimate than you were expecting.

Okay. Time to stop. You wanted to know what would happen. This is what happened. You can stop now.

You're not going to stop. Eh, you tried.

You're at least not going to be stupid about this. It's like boiling a frog or whatever, you're going to be slow and gentle and let him get used to your hand on his bare chest before you follow your unignorable impulse to find out what his nipples feel like. (Nipples, Dirk, they’ll feel like nipples. Why are you like this?)

His heartbeat is so steady and his breaths are even and just slightly heavy with sleep. You stroke his chest slowly, in a way you have to imagine is soothing, moving towards that same nipple you touched before.

You barely resist the urge to pinch him harshly. You don't actually want him awake. You don't _think_ you want him awake. You're kind of swinging back and forwards on that. Instead you move your finger in light circles, feeling his nipple stiffen into a peak underneath you. You look at his face, but it hasn't moved at all. You wonder if he's dreaming to match what you're doing.

You let your gaze drop from his eyelids to his lips, then to his throat. You wish he wasn't wearing this shirt, but it's still interesting to see the shape of your hand underneath it. And below your hand the shirt has hiked up a bit, showing the contrast between his slightly more tanned skin and yours. Almost as if he actually leaves the house. It’s not like there’s less sun in Texas than California.

You only look at his pants because you like symmetry and you might as well look at his whole body. Your fingers freeze when you see that his nipple isn't the only thing that's reacting to your touch.

You glance down at your own crotch as if you need visual confirmation that your own dick is pressing almost painfully into your zipper. You unbutton and unzip your jeans and carefully rearrange yourself. The pressure fades back into background noise and your attention is once again fully on Bro. Which makes you think that if you don't do the same for him, your game is over, because maybe your hand isn’t enough to wake him up but surely that discomfort would be.

You drag your hand down his chest, still committed to the idea that if you have one point of contact it'll be less noticeable. His button unpops almost too easily. The zip resists at first, mostly because you're trying not to drag it too obviously over his dick. You get it down and hesitate. This is a bigger deal than what you've done so far.

You slip your hand into his jeans and rest it lightly over his cock. You can probably do this without actually touching him. Keep the barrier of his underwear between you. Go back to touching his chest.

You just need to get an idea of how he's currently positioned so that you can make him more comfortable. You feel tentatively down until you find the shape of his balls. You aren't going to touch them again, so you make sure to get it out of your system, cupping them gently and exploring them thoroughly.

You leave them be and drag your hand slowly and gently up the length of his dick, feeling where it's confined uncomfortably and where you'll need to rearrange it. Which will take a little more pressure than you're currently using. You'll need to be firmer.

You stroke him again. You need to get him so used to this light touch that he won't notice when you move him. He's growing even harder in your hand as you touch him, which makes sense but also is making the prospect of running out of room even more urgent. You don't know if he'll even fit comfortably inside his briefs even once you rearrange him.

If it was you, you'd be pulling your dick out. But then you'll be touching him skin to skin, which you were trying to avoid. Not out of lack of interest. You want to touch him more than you've ever wanted anything. But the risk …

On the other hand, surely there's not that much difference from what you're doing now and what you want to do. And if you made him more comfortable, you could get away with more.

You don't know what the right answer is, so you go with the one that you want to be right. Bro's erection is already lifting his waistband up from his hip enough for you to ease your hand inside. You carefully find the shape of his dick and then pull his briefs up a bit more so you can guide him free. He's hard and hot and you realise you don't want his waistband pressing into his shaft either. Carefully and slowly, you shift the fabric down until they're below his balls.

You're glad his jeans are the kind with the low zipper and probably won't bother him, but you'll keep your hand shielding his dick from the cold metal just in case.

Actually, you have two hands. You shift so that you're sitting up a bit more and hold his jeans away with your left hand, stroking at his hair with your fingertips. You wrap your right hand around his tip, watching how his foreskin shifts as you slowly stroke him.

He has to be fully hard by now. His skin feels like it's stretched thin and he's distractingly big and heavy in your hand. His head is starting to leak a small amount of precome. You don't want that to drip onto his belly. You move your palm over it and then back down his cock.

Bro sighs softly and you look at his face. He's still very much asleep, but that's the first noise he's made, the first indication he's given that he's remotely aware of what you're doing. You really shouldn't want him to do it again.

More pre is beading on his head. You're not one to do the same trick twice. Without thinking about it further than you want to, you're dipping your head down and licking him clean.

You have to suppress a groan of pleasure. You fucking love the taste of dick in general, but Bro's is even better than you could have anticipated. Or maybe it's that you've been fantasising about this for way too long. You lick him again, lingering and feeling the texture of his slit on your tongue.

Bro's next breath is a little shakier than it should be, so you lighten your grip on his shaft and the pressure of your tongue, but you keep moving. You move your lips over his head, wet from your licks and then slide your mouth a little lower.

This time you can't quite help the moan of satisfaction as you wrap your tongue around him. It's muffled enough that you barely hear it yourself, but you take more of his dick into your mouth in an effort to shut yourself up.

You shift yourself into a more comfortable angle and suck lightly up before dipping down again until his head is pressing against your throat and then past it. You love the feeling of this, love that you're good at it. It's almost scary, that pressure right where you breathe, and it just feels _satisfying_ in a way you can't quite name.

You reach into your pants and squeeze yourself for a bit of relief. It isn't relieving. It makes everything hotter and harder to deal with and suddenly you're wondering if you even want him to come in your mouth when your ass is right there.

Can you do that? Can you _not_ do that now that you've thought it?

You slide from the couch onto the floor, still holding his dick gently in your mouth. You're not about to ruin this by having any sudden sensations. He shifts closer to you as if he's chasing your mouth and you have to take him all the way to the base again to reward that.

You slow down so that you can be confident in your ability to take your pants off and suck him at the same time. It's not easy, not least because your hands are shaking with nerves and arousal, but you get them off. There's nothing you can do about your shirt, or not easily and quickly at least, but you don't mind.

You let your mouth get even sloppier than it was, encouraging your spit to drip down his dick and onto your hand. You're desperate enough to just hop right on him and you're sure you could manage it if it wasn't also for the fact that you don't want him waking up.

So instead you rub your now slick fingers against your hole. You can't help but try and sit back on them even though you're the one who's in control of them. Thanks to an apparently misguided attempt to wank out your frustrations before Bro got home, you take two fingers immediately.

You groan lowly and take Bro back into your throat as pseudo punishment for your noise. It is just about the opposite of discouraging. You spread your fingers with more urgency, as if that will help. You just want him inside you already, you're burning with need.

Finally, you can't take it anymore and you slowly remove your mouth, careful not to lick away too much of your spit. You have to move his hand to make room for your knees and you can't believe that that feels almost more risky than riding him until you both come, but it does.

You breathe evenly and deliberately as you hold him steady against your hole and slowly start to sink down.

Oh _God_ , he feels better than any toy could. You close your eyes as you take in the sensation of the stretch, of everything. You pause once you've taken him all the way in, just enjoying how it feels. You open your eyes so that you can check that Bro's still asleep.

He is, but his hair is sticking to his forehead with sweat and there's a small frown between his eyes. He looks fucking gorgeous like this. You wonder what orgasm looks like on him. You slowly lift your hips and then drop them again, watching his face closely.

His expression barely changes, but there is some movement. His breathing isn't as steady as it was and his fingers occasionally twitch like he's going to grab you by the hips and guide you harder and faster. It's an exhilarating thought.

Harder and faster sounds pretty fucking good to you. You grab the base of your dick desperately to try and delay your orgasm as you grind against him. Your movements are getting sloppier and you tip your head back as if that will help you breathe easier. God, you want to come so badly.

Bro moans and you force your head back down to look at him just as his eyes open. Oh fuck.

He frowns in confusion as he takes in what's happening and why the fuck haven't your hips stopped moving and now he's reaching for your waist. His fingertips just brush you when his frown of confusion transforms into one of ecstasy and you feel him come inside you.

Your breath hitches in surprise and you can't help that you're coming too, clenching around him and scrunching up your face to try and hold back a moan. It doesn't quite work.

He stares up at you, you can feel his eyes on you, but you look at your come on his belly and shirt instead. You're such an idiot. You can't believe you did that.

He grabs you by the arm and pulls you down and close to his chest. You don't resist. You couldn't, not now. You have no idea why he chooses to kiss your forehead and stroke your hair instead of yell at you.

No, you're not getting away with fucking cuddles here, you don't deserve this shit. You try to wriggle away, but he holds you firm so you punch him in the throat ( _why???_ ) and fall off the couch. You land on your knee, and then you're off, flashstepping to the bathroom and locking the door behind you.

'Dirk, what the _fuck_?' Bro calls after you. You hear his footsteps down the hall and then the sound of him staggering into a wall. God, he's still sleepdrunk. You turn the shower on and strip off your shirt, getting in before it's even had time to warm. You probably don't deserve a hot shower, but you can't quite bring yourself to turn the tap off to keep it cold.

There's a knock at the door. You ignore it. You hear him try to turn the handle and then try and force it. Nope, apparently he can't break through the lock.

'Dirk, _christsake_ , talk to me.'

Nope, not happening. God, what were you thinking? Even if he hadn't woken up, what, were you thinking he'd just think he'd fucked someone else in his sleep? Or that you could have cleaned him up while he was still sleeping? Or that he'd think that wet dreams now come with a wet dick? Like, honestly, _what were you thinking?_

'Come on, kid, you should really let me in.'

Were you hoping he would wake up? You just don't know anymore.

'Fine, I'll talk to a wall, you think you can stop me from talking? I've been reliably informed it's impossible to keep me from shooting my mouth so buckle up boyo, it's rollercoaster time.'

He hesitates for a moment and you find yourself straining to hear him over your shower like an idiot who deserves talking.

'Not a rollercoaster like my dick, just to clarify. A rollercoaster like my incredible guardian feelings talk skills. You know, like how that sentence made sense. Fuck.'

You roll your eyes to yourself. Why do you love him. In literally every way. _Argh_ feelings are the worst.

'I'm not mad, Dirk, I mean, I don't really know what I'm feeling apart from tired and also come-stupid, but I'm not mad. Do you get that? Like when you jizz it feels like all your brain has escaped through your dick? Actually, pretend I didn't ask that, it's not the time. Unless you wanna answer, 'cause I am kinda curious.'

You should just try and drown yourself in the shower. If anyone can figure out how to do it, it's you.

'Can you just not be all worked up about this?' Bro says. You actually manage to hear his yawn through the wall and over the shower before he speaks again. 'I wanna go to sleep but I want you to be okay more.'

You don't know what to do. You just have to ignore him while you get your head straight. He tries to talk to you several more times before he goes quiet. You don't hear him walk away, which is a bit confusing. You step out of the shower and wrap yourself in a towel, clutching it close as if you deserve the comfort.

You open the door and see that Bro is slumped in the hallway, asleep and in a really awkward position. You sigh. You can't leave him like this, not when he's there in the first place because of you.

You kick him lightly but he doesn't move. Because he's a fucking deep sleeper, apparently. You crouch down and swing his arm over your shoulder before heaving him up. He manages to get his feet underneath him and lean into you, but he doesn't feel entirely awake.

'You 'kay?' he mumbles as you drag him to his bedroom.

'Yeah, sure,' you say.

He sighs and nudges his head into your neck a little bit more. You're pretty sure that's supposed to be affectionate.

You drop him on his bed and he awkwardly shoves his jeans and shirt off until he's just in his underwear. You watch until he's finished and you realise you probably shouldn't have. He seems to be asleep again, but the blankets aren't even close to covering him. You pull them up, assuming it's the least you can do.

He grabs you while you're bent over his bed and pulls you in with him, flicking the blankets over both of you and holding you firmly to his chest. You try and wriggle out again, but you can't. He's too strong and this time he’s got your arms pinned under his so you can’t hit him again. Not that you want to. You stop struggling, but you don't stop thinking. You don't deserve how nice this feels.

You really don’t mean to fall asleep. You glare at his chest until your eyes burn trying to force yourself to stay awake. You’re so fucking tired.


	2. Chapter 2

When you wake up, you're pinning Dirk to your side fiercely. You relax your grip slightly, but he doesn't shift away. Good. You listen for a moment and his breathing is sleep-even. He sucks at faking that, you can take your arm away to scrub at your face.

It'd be nice if you could have had a moment of obliviousness before you had to deal with the memories from last night, but it's not on the cards. You remember everything. Well, everything you were conscious for. The thing that's sticking out for you (apart from the obvious) is how scared Dirk looked and how sure you were that he was gone for good.

You haven't been the best bro to him. You're not around enough, even when you lived here you weren't around enough, but you've tried. It's not even just that you're busy as fuck, you've been trying to avoid this exact fucking situation for way too long now.

It's not like you could miss the signs that Dirk had what you thought was a puppy-love style crush on you. You assumed it would go away when he met someone his own age or he suppressed it or after divine intervention, whatever, you just didn't want to have to deal with it yourself. You now think that this dodging might have made the problem worse.

Dirk shifts slightly in his sleep and you pull him close to you again. He doesn't stir. You wonder how long it took for him to fall asleep. Knowing him, he stayed awake half the night torturing himself. Dumb kid.

You brush his hair out of his face. It's gone curly because he slept on it before he dried it. You love it when it looks like this, it's so him, even if he usually covers it up with his careful styling. Which is also so him. God you love him so much.

Which is the crux of the problem, really. Because his reaction to you is only half of the problem. You're sitting on the other half.

While you were still asleep, whatever he was doing to you was seeping into your dreams in a pretty positive way. And you'd like to excuse the fact that it was Dirk there too on him being the last person you saw before you fell asleep, but you can't do that. Because then what do you blame the other dreams on?

And when you woke up … okay, so you already felt really good but seeing Dirk, completely out of his mind and in the moment, moving like that, his dick bouncing obscenely and his … god, his everything just so good. You came from that, not from how fucking amazing his ass felt. Though, like, it was a factor.

You should probably stop thinking about it or you're going to make this cuddle a lot less innocent. Considering you're only in your underwear and he's only in a towel, it's already not that innocent.

God, you wonder how far you could go on him before he woke up. If he hasn't slept well, if he hasn't been sleeping well consistently, he might be properly passed out. And a towel is easier to take off than pants.

Jesus christ, Bro, you need to get a hold of yourself. You're pretty sure that wouldn't solve anything. Though it would show him that you didn't mind his advances. No, wow, your mind is bad.

Of course if you woke him up normally what's to say it wouldn't go that way anyway? You finally acknowledge that you have to shift your crotch away from his ass. You're the worst brother ever.

Your hand starts to move on his chest absolutely without your permission, just feeling the soft skin above his collarbones. This is a slippery slope. You have to stop. You're going to stop. God it's unfair that you got to have sex with him and you weren't even aware for most of it.

You have to let him sleep. You have to talk to him about this. You have to … probably never do it again. No, you definitely have to not do it again. (But what if you didn't tell anyone?) Your thoughts are evil and you're not to be trusted alone with them.

Okay, here's what you're going to do. You're going to just think about what you would do until you inevitably get to the bit where everything crashes and burns and goes wrong. It'll stop you from thinking like this.

So, first off, you'd be taking that towel off, no fucking doubt. And the blankets. It's warm enough that it probably wouldn't bother him. You'd be scooting down the bed, maybe kissing down his spine because god damn does he have an unfairly pretty back. You'd stroke your hand down his side until you got to his hip and then you'd reach around and take his cock in your hand.

You wonder if it'd still be soft. You could check. You could look right now, that's not the same as what you're imagining, you'd just be doing a little extra research for the fantasy. You swallow and take your hand away from his waist. You're really not to be trusted while you're thinking like this.

You'd stroke him until he was hard anyway, you like feeling a nice cock stiffening against your palm and Dirk sure has a nice cock. You'd scoot down further until your lips were on his tailbone and then you'd ease him onto his stomach so you could spread his cheeks and god, you're so fucking hard thinking about this it's not funny.

You wonder how long you could rim him before he woke up. You could go a long time, just wait it out until he became aware. You like eating guys out, you fucking love his ass, everyone likes waking up to rim jobs, it all checks out to you. And once he woke up, surely he'd let you fuck him again. He'd be all ready from your tongue and you could show him how good you are when he lets you take control.

You'd start off gentle and nice for him, but you don't think either of you would be able to maintain that. He'd want you harder and faster, and you'd drag it out just long enough to get him needy, not quite making him beg, and then you'd give it to him.

And afterwards you'd be ready for his flighty bullshit this time, so you'd keep him close and cuddle him properly, explain that you feel it too in between lazy kisses. Because he'd probably need the explanation even if the sex should be able to speak for itself. And you'd be patient and loving with him and he'd eventually believe you.

You'd take him back to LA with you. No cover needed, you just want more time with your kid brother, he could do his computer bullshit from your house there just as well as from this place. You'd keep the apartment, of course. You're never getting rid of your home.

Why isn't your fantasy being ruined by reality yet? Can you really not imagine this all going wrong? Stupid optimistic brain and/or dick.

He shifts against you again and frowns before slowly blinking his eyes open. You can't wake him up after all. Next time. (No, bad brain!)

'Hey,' you say. You replace your arm around his waist, ready to grab him just in case.

'Hey, Bro,' he says. His voice is raspy with sleep and he's squinting at you a bit. Your heart aches with how much affection you feel. You're really glad he's not running away.

'You sleep alright?' you ask.

He gives you a look of tired resignation.

'Come on, Dirk, small talk is good. Small talk is the backbone of America. Supposed to be sunny today, that'll be nice.'

'This is Texas, Bro, it's always sunny. Can you just … get this over with?'

He shifts so he can face you properly and you stroke his curls out of his eyes again. They bounce back almost immediately and he shoves them away impatiently.

'I don't know what I want to say,' you tell him.

He closes his eyes and his posture tenses, as if he's expecting you to hit him.

'I can do it,' he says. 'I was wrong and stupid and you think it's for the best if I move out, get my own place and maybe just don't leave a forwarding address. Nice knowing you, Bro, thank you for everything, I'm really sorry I ended shit like this.'

He moves away from you and you grab him firmly by the shoulder. You wait until he opens his eyes again before you speak.

'Dirk, you're my bro. Nothing changes that. Not this, not fucking murder, nothing. And don't you ever fucking doubt me again, asshole. I love you.'

He swallows harshly but he meets your gaze and nods. You pull him in to your chest and hug him tightly. He hugs you back just as hard. This is where you need to continue being a guardian and tell him, "but we can't do it again, obviously." Nothing comes out. 

'So what, we just pretend it never happened?' Dirk says, his voice muffled against your shoulder.

'Or we do it again so I get the full experience this time,' you say.

Fuck.

'I mean, yeah, we ignore it. Or get therapy or something.'

Yeah, that'll make it like you never said those words. Dirk squirms back and this time you let him go. Kinda fair enough to not want to hug your bro after he said that. God you're a disaster.

He looks at you with suspicion. And then his eyes dart down to your mouth. It's the only warning you get before he's kissing you, kissing you like he's done this a million times and you think you might drown in his kisses and be happy. His chest presses against yours again and you grab him on the ass and pull him closer until he wraps his leg over yours.

His dick brushes against yours when he brings himself closer and then again, more deliberately, when he grinds against you. Oh shit, you're totally going to fuck him and you're not going to be able to have the sleeping defense this time, you're 100% entrenched in this bitch.

Dirk arches his back and pulls you with him, encouraging you to take the higher position and kiss him deeper, take control. He's wild against you, his nails digging into your shoulder, his teeth grazing your lips. How the fuck did you sleep through this?

That or he held himself back last time and he's not going to this time. In case you insist that this is the last time. In case you go back on your word about always being there for him. You roll onto him more, pressing your thigh firmly against his dick and you kiss him like it's the only way you can tell him how desperate you are.

He reaches up and presses his hand to your chest. For a moment you think he's going to push you away, but then his fingers curl around your nipple and you squeak with surprise.

He huffs a laugh against your mouth and does it again.

'Dirk, holy shit, ease into it, I'm-' he pinches you again and you make an equally embarrassing noise- 'sensitive …'

This little shit. You grab his wrists and pin them beside his head. He looks up at you with blown pupils and red lips. Huh. You can be more aggressive if that's what he wants.

You roll your hips against his dick slowly. The towel, which was barely tucked into itself around Dirk's waist to begin with, falls slightly open. The stretch of skin from his thigh to his hip that's now revealed might just be the sexiest thing you've ever seen.

You pull his wrists above his head so that you can hold them with one hand and pull his towel away properly. He makes a token attempt to shake your hand off, but you ignore him in favour of staring at his cock. It's perfect.

You stroke him with your fingertips, just to feel it. He squirms underneath you and you give him a patronising kiss on the nose. He can wait. Daddy's playing. (That's a dangerous thought, and one to put aside for later. Like, a lot later. That's jumping in the deep end without reading how deep the water is or checking if there are sharks in the pool like some kind of fool.) You stroke him again and he thrusts up into your touch.

'Bro,' he whines.

Oop, turns out that's a button for you too. You wrap your hand around him as he hooks his legs around your hips and thrusts up.

'Eager,' you say, a bit breathless.

'No fucking kidding,' he says. 'Let me … do something.'

You consider it. Really you do. But you’ve got a kid here who absolutely measures his worth on his ability to give you things. The fact that he looks good like this, his slim wrists confined in your darker fingers, his face frustrated and needy … yeah, okay, it’s a contributing factor. You’re not perfect. 

‘Nah,’ you say, kissing him on the nose again. 

He tilts his chin up and you can’t help but give him what he wants (you’ve been accused of spoiling him before, but he’s hard to say no to). You keep the kiss short and sweet, though, pulling your lower lip away from his teeth after only a couple of seconds of indulging him. 

You swap the hands holding onto his wrists so you can reach your bedside table and grab your lube. He follows your every movement hungrily, you can feel his eyes on you even when you’re not watching him watch you. 

‘Hey, is this cool?’ you ask. ‘Like, are you cool with my fucking you right now? Probs should ask, right, that’s a pretty important step, like, no judgement for you skipping it or anything, I’m all cool on that front, but like, as far as responsibilities go and good examples, you know all that bullshit, I should ask, get some clear and enthusiastic consent going, am I right?’

‘Oh my God,’ Dirk says. ‘Am I not being clear and enthusiastic enough?’

You glance down at his dick, at the tight grip his leg has around your hips and his general body language.

‘Words are nice,’ you say.

‘ _Yes_ ,’ he says. ‘Please. Do you want me to beg for it? I’m not too proud, I’ll beg.’

‘Cool,’ you say. 

You start to fumble with the lube, trying to open the cap and get it on your fingers without letting go of his wrists. He gives you a look that’s way too judgemental for a guy who literally just offered to beg for your dick. 

‘So, I could use your input on my new idea,’ you say. ‘I think it’s a bit on the nose, maybe a bit too experimental, like both at once somehow. What?’

He’s looking up at you like you’re insane for wanting to get your chat on while you do this. You’ve successfully got your fingers lubed up and you tug on his arms a bit to get him in a better position to reach between his legs. 

He opens his mouth, doesn’t say anything and then closes it again, sighing. 

‘Nothing. What’s your idea?’

‘So you know Plato?’ you ask. 

He closes his eyes as you start to circle your fingertip around his rim, massaging the muscle and getting everything wet. He nods, though, so you keep talking. 

‘Yeah, so the latest SBAHJ isn’t gonna get past the censorship dogs in the UK. Which is complete bullshit, by the way, and it’s not even the literal thousands of dollars I spent on tomato sauce for the fake blood, it’s the sex stuff, and I didn’t even get nearly as gratuitous with that as I wanted to because obviously I still wanted to sell the fucking film. And it’s the UK, since when are they more puritan than our assholes?’

‘Clockwork Orange,’ Dirk gasps.

‘Yeah, good point,’ you say. 

He’s starting to shake, his leg tense around you and his hips just barely moving. You think your slow pace is frustrating him, which wasn’t even your intention, you kinda got distracted talking. This is why you can’t hold down a lover, you’ve been told. You slip your first finger inside him and he whines, pressing down to urge you deeper. Fuck, that’s hot.

‘Okay, but anyway, I take issue,’ you say. Your voice is a bit lower and rougher now, but that’s fine, it’ll take more than horniness to get you to stop talking. ‘So I want to do The Republic, but obviously veiled and whatever. Ideal society, made especially for people who get Hella Jeff’s vision of what society should look like, but with like that whole emphasis on artists being banned because fuck them for attempting representation.’

‘Moral obligation of the artist?’ he asks.

‘ _Yes_ , yes, exactly, thank you.’ 

You give him a second finger and he hooks his ankle around the back of your thigh as anchorage to pull himself closer to you. His eyes are open again and intensely locking with yours as he fucks himself on your fingers. You swallow.

‘Um, yeah, so like endorsing art as a medium to educate, you know, like what’s his name was all about.’

‘Half of literary theorists throughout time fit that description,’ he moans. 

‘Yeah, but who’s the one I’m thinking of. He has a really normal sounding name for a pal of Plato and that lot.’

‘Plato wasn’t “pals” with any of them, he was an asshole.’

‘No, yeah, but I read about him in the same book that I got the other bullshit from—’

‘Bro, _please_ ,’ Dirk interrupts. ‘Please, please fuck me. Please.’

You really aren’t good at not giving him whatever he asks for. You pull your fingers out of him and let his wrists go to push your underwear down. He grabs your neck and pulls you down to kiss him while you’re still struggling to kick your foot free. He shoves his tongue in your mouth and you let him direct the kiss as you focus on lubing your dick up. 

He lets you go when you pull back, needing your face to aim. If there’s a trick for doing anal without looking at what you’re doing, you haven’t learned it yet. You groan as you start to push inside him.

‘ _Fuck_ ,’ he whines.

‘Too much?’ you ask, stilling.

‘No-no-no, please, more.’

He digs his heels into your ass and pulls you forward. You have to work to go as slow as you think you need to. He rocks his hips into you, and you think you could probably stay still and let him somehow top while bottoming from the bottom, but as hot as that sounds, you’re in charge of this rodeo.

‘Why Hella Jeff?’ he asks as you lean your body on top of him, slightly breathless as you let the weight of your chest fall on his. You just want him to feel how much you’re _here_.

‘Dude, they’re interchangeable, that’s the whole point,’ you say. Not the first time you’ve called someone dude while fucking them. You may have a problem with intimacy.

‘What?’

‘It literally doesn’t matter which of them does what.’

You hold his shoulders and he hugs you back just as tight. It’s taking more effort than you thought to keep this close and still fuck him properly, but it’s worth it. You kiss at his neck in between harsh breaths.

‘They have distinct personalities,’ he says.

Damn, you thought if anyone was to get this about your movies it would be him. You use him as a sounding board literally all the time.

‘Yeah, but that’s mostly, _fuck_ ’ you swear as he clenches around you suddenly and almost lose your train of thought. ‘Mostly chance,’ you gasp. ‘They’re intentionally blank slates to make projection easier.’

You lean up and straighten your elbows and accidentally drag him with you because he’s clinging to you so tight. You kiss the corner of his mouth as he relaxes his grip and starts to feel up your chest instead. Fucking hell, this position is easier as straight missionary. You dig your fingers into his hip and start thrusting harder.

‘Oh my God,’ he moans, tipping his head back.

‘It’s not that big a revelation,’ you pant.

‘ _No_ , you ass, I’m …’ he trails off in a moan and you can’t help but huff a laugh. Oh. He was reacting to your dick, not your words.

You’re clearly doing something right, so you decide to focus up and keep doing it. You fuck into him harder and faster, letting yourself feel properly instead of distracting yourself with talking. 

He feels incredible, hot and tight and gripping onto your shoulders like they’re a lifeline. You love the look of him like this, his skin flushed and his teeth biting into his lower lip like that’s gonna keep him from moaning. 

He lets go of you with one hand and brings it down to squeeze his dick. You cover his hand with your own and guide his hand over him. He relaxes his grip completely and lets you set the pace, lets you puppet him closer to the edge.

You feel it ripple through him when he comes, in the stiffness in his legs around your hips and his forearm in your grip before his asshole clenches tight around you and his dick starts to pulse under your hand. Your own orgasm takes you by surprise, you’re too busy staring at the gorgeous shape his brow is in to be paying attention and you groan way louder than you might have if you’d had any control over yourself.

You let yourself relax onto his chest and he wraps his arms firmly around you. You hum in satisfaction. 

‘I’m buying a gag tomorrow,’ Dirk says.

‘Hot,’ you say. ‘Why?’

‘Because I’m not willing to condition myself into getting boners when I see Owen Wilson.’

‘Aw.’

‘I had wondered if you shut up during.’

‘Yeah,’ you laugh. ‘You mind?’

‘No,’ he sighs. ‘I have terrible judgement, though.’

You lean up onto your forearm so you can look at him. He looks wiped, his curls sticking to his forehead and his eyelids heavy. He’s so gorgeous. You kiss his cheek, then his mouth. His lips are lazy in returning it.

‘Are you okay?’ you ask.

‘Yeah,’ he says. He lifts himself up to kiss you again. ‘Um, really okay. Especially if that can happen a million more times.’

You smile at him and stroke his hair back out of his face.

‘Anything for you.’

You probably have some shit to figure out, but for now … this is good.


End file.
